When You Don't Know What You Want
by Dorminchu
Summary: Love does funny things to people.
1. I could be lost or I could be saved

One month to graduation.

The inescapability of her fate prompted her to make careless decisions. She watched Eren Jaeger, and he watched her. But never at the same time. Sometimes she wanted to hold his hand under the table and ask him what he knew. Other times she wanted to get him alone and spar, just spar, until he'd give up and leave her alone.

Then she wanted to take him by surprise, pin him to the ground and kiss him until she was dizzy, steal the breath from his lungs, lose herself in the very heart and soul of him. She wanted him to kiss her back, to bury his face in the crook of her neck, run fingers through her hair and callused hands across her skin, untouched. She yearned to demonstrate her aims, watch him unravel beneath her. To revel in the foolishness of human emotion and relay her breathless, traitorous message into his jaw: _I'm not who you think I am. Don't throw your life away, because it isn't worth it_.

She was patient. And one night, fate was kind to her.

* * *

She got him alone. That was the easy part, because they'd been sparring for a while and he wouldn't suspect a thing. Not yet. The plan was innocent in its beginnings, it really was. The desire to prove Mina—and Reiner—wrong was, in part, what perverted it.

As she walked out into the clearing, she wondered if there was really much more she could teach him at this point. The rest of it wasn't much use to anyone. But their entire situation was pointless, and wasn't that was why she had brought him out here? To warn him, headstrong fool that he was, of the hopelessness of his mission?

It was a strange fight. She was thinking all the while, and he caught on to her distraction, let his guard down. His mistake. She took advantage of his momentary indecision and sent him sprawling. He had no time to recover as she pinned him down.

Eren flinched. Waiting for the finishing blow. It didn't come. Five seconds passed, then seven. Ten. Nothing happened.

She could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't expecting the closeness that followed, nor the hasty, somewhat graceless kiss she imparted upon his unsuspecting mouth.

"What was that?" he managed, as soon as she'd departed.

"Something I've been wanting to do for a while."

That had him speechless. Her own face felt hot, suddenly. He mumbled something thick that sounded like: "Whuh?"

Annie saved some face by rolling her pelvis into his stomach. He inhaled sharply through his nose, unsure, yet eager despite himself. Thus encouraged, she sank down and kissed him hotly, all tongue and teeth, fingers mussing his hair. He groaned in pleasure and surprise, ran his hands over the back of her head.

"Shh," she whispered against his lips. "Don't want to attract attention, do we?"

"Are you insane?" he hissed. "Shadis'll have our heads."

She sat up. "We'd better move someplace more inconspicuous, then."

Eren stared at her. She was satisfied to note the pink flush blooming across his nose.

"There." Annie indicated the tree line with a jerk of her head. "But we're going to have to be quiet." She got off him and he rose to his feet slowly, dusting himself off. She considered mentioning how it was a silly thing to do, but decided against it. "Did you have some other place in mind?" she asked.

"No." There was a pause, then, "Never took you to be the spontaneous sort."

It took everything in her dwindling supply of control not to smile as she led him through the trees in silence, stopped when they were a safe enough distance from the barracks.

They looked each other over in the pale moonlight. His scrutiny was tangible; it was impossible to ignore the blatant fascination in his gaze even as she turned, shed her jacket, her shirt, laid them atop a nearby rock. The summer air was pleasantly cool on her skin, and his breath hitched when she met his eyes again. Wordlessly, Annie took his hands in hers, placed them on her bare waist as if they were to partake in some kind of dance, and coaxed him back against one of the many trees. Cradled within the figure of the oak and its leafen canopy, Eren looked down to her uncertainly.

"So what d'you want me to do?" he asked.

"Use your hands," she instructed quietly. He wasn't the only one blushing at that. Eren swallowed dryly, eyes roaming over her.

"Oh," he said, faintly. "Course."

She felt his grip loosen on her, a little clammy, sliding up the outline of her figure like she was some delicate creature. He bent to rest his head upon hers as her fingers splayed across his back, and when he pressed a hand into her chest it was suddenly very hard to breathe. She bit her lip, leaning into the touch. He noticed the tremble in her body—how could he not—and kissed her gently, as if to reassure her.

"S'that what you...?" he trailed off. She could only nod, marveling at how tentative he was under her, and brought his other hand to her similarly. She realised how she'd never really thought about how noisy the forest was: the hum of the insects and the whisper of the trees and their quiet panting, all intermingling into a hushed cacophony that kept her on edge.

It wasn't enough for her, but she couldn't be patient, not now.

"You could always use your mouth." The words were out before she could think better of it and Eren stopped, taken aback.

"Is that a request?"

She kissed him so he'd shut up, but he grinned against her lips, hooked an arm around her back, descended awkwardly so that her lips just brushed his temple. She rubbed the back of his head, leaning into him. When he took it upon himself to invoke his tongue, she hissed her approval, pleasure spreading like fire, contenting herself with the feel of his mouth a little while longer before she called his attention. Eren drew back, and she clutched his shoulders.

Together they sank to the forest floor. Annie enclosed him once more against the tree and worked with the buttons of her pants. She felt the back of his hand brush her clothed thigh before she looked down and saw him doing the same thing. Understanding his objective to be in accordance with her own, she shoved her trousers down past her knees, stroking herself feverishly. Eren shivered visibly at the sight of her, and she took one of his hands in hers.

He sat up, attentive. Annie guided him as she wanted, bit back a moan of relief as he understood.

"Is that right?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she muttered, "yes, that's fi—!" She stopped talking when he stroked her a little more intently, hovering precariously over him, lips parted, eyes nearly shut. He kissed her jaw and she ground her hips agitatedly into his palm, trying to find a rhythm. But it was building too quickly and she couldn't think, so Annie grasped his hand to stop him. "Wait," she panted, "not—not yet."

"Enough for you?" he mumbled jokingly, and in spite of his ignorance, she did not miss the comprehension in his hooded gaze, nor the telltale twitch of him against her thigh. She groaned, pushed his hand from her and tried to get his trousers off. He helped her, and after a few seconds of fumbling they were ready.

When he made to remove his jacket she stopped him.

"What?"

"That's a tree behind you," she said simply. Eren glanced back at the tree, grunted vaguely, and maintained a relaxed grasp on her hips, guiding her to him. Annie kissed his forehead, let her head droop, panting, to observe his reaction. He was so sensitive he almost grimaced when she took him in hand, hissed sharply when she knelt down upon him. This was slow, in contrast to the rest of it, but she was grateful because all right, maybe she hadn't been as ready as she'd thought. Her name brewed somewhere from his throat, and he dragged her to him, breath harsh, hot against her collarbone; the whole of him burned with nearly as much intensity as she did, even through his clothing.

"I'd have to kill you if you told anyone about this," she remarked, and her voice was low, raspy. "But you know that, don't you?" Eren made a hoarse sound that might've been a laugh.

So it commenced.

When she came down from it all, he embraced her, face nestled in the crook of her shoulder. There was a beautiful, hideous manifestation of liberation as she let him stroke back her hair. She stared, unseeing, into the shadows, listening to the sound of his breath. She could tell him now. She could tell him everything, and he would listen. He would probably have listened regardless, but time was short and they were only human. The irony was what kept her silent, and guilt twisted in her stomach.

"Love you, Ann," Eren mumbled, sheepish with the certainty of it.

Coward that she was, Annie only hugged him.

* * *

_Screaming out from the crests of waves_  
_You're longing to be saved_

_Coldplay - Crests of Waves_


	2. And I did not know what to do

They stayed beneath the tree for a while. It might've been minutes, or hours. Eren wasn't sure, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to care. The night was still but for the faint sounds of whatever nocturnal variety roamed the wilderness, unmindful to time's consequence.

He felt odd in the conclusion. Happy, almost unreasonably so, but somber in a manner he couldn't quite put into words.

So he lay there, staring up at the sky through the darkened foliage, until Annie stirred. She slid from him carefully with a ragged sigh, alighting herself atop his abdomen. He noted she was still flushed, and considered her nudity with a kind of hushed interest. He'd not thought much about the intricacies of her body outside of training—and perhaps a bit more than that, if he risked further reflection—yet here she was, soft and warm and lying nearly somnolent across him. For a split second he contemplated asking if she was cold before he realised she was still quite warm. Even with the heat of summer, it was a bit unexpected.

Now she pulled back, looked at him as if seeing him clearly for the first time.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Annie seemed to hesitate. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, frowning, and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, sighing heavily.

"It's a stupid question. I already know where you'll be off to after this." Her words were muffled by his jacket.

"You mean when we enlist after graduation?" She offered nothing in the way of confirmation to his query. "I'm joining the Scouts. It's what I came here to do."

"You're sure about that?"

"Course I'm sure."

"How do you know there's anything out there?"

"Armin used to smuggle books from his house, back when we were kids in Shiganshina." Annie was quiet, but he could tell she was listening. "He taught me plenty. Mikasa, too."

The silence that ensued was as heavy and stifling as the humid summer air between them. It held for a long time before Annie finally broke it.

"What's it like?"

"The outside world?" Eren looked down at her, taken aback by her question. "Well, it's a lot like this. There are mountains and forests and rivers. But there aren't any walls. It's just open space. And there are other things." He stopped to prop himself up against the tree, and she did not object. "You want me to go on?"

She raised her head, and despite the skepticism in her tone, there was a hint of intrigue.

"How can you know it exists if you haven't seen it?"

"It's all in the books. There are mountains that hold fire inside them, like water. There are plains made of sand and ice." He paused, leaning back against the tree, searching for words. "...And there's the sea."

"The sea?"

"Yes. It's saltwater. And there's so much of it that it can't be used up."

"That sounds absurd."

He grinned. "I know it does, but Armin's sold on it. So I want to know if such a thing is even possible."

Another moment of silence. He felt her close her fingers around his palm, and she stared fixedly at their intertwined hands, brow furrowed.

"Have you ever considered that you don't know any better?"

"About what?"

"The world. You think that Titans are our only enemy?" There was a subtle edge to her voice that he couldn't place.

"No. I know that there are other dangers."

"But what if we're all just a part of something bigger? What if I'm not who you think I am?"

Eren held her gaze, concerned, but completely unsure what he was supposed to say. "What are you trying to tell me?"

She tensed as if he'd said something unpleasant, whole body rigid as if he could strike at any moment. "I'm not like you, Eren. I don't want to sacrifice myself for my cause."

He frowned, perplexed by her reaction. "You don't have to die to fight for something."

Annie smiled thinly. "You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eren said, now affronted.

"You would die for your beliefs. I wouldn't."

He raised his eyebrows. "When did this turn into some sort of philosophical debate?"

She glanced back unenthusiastically at the rock, as if contemplating whether or not retrieving her shirt would be worth the trouble of getting up. "When I asked you why you wanted to join the Scout Regiment."

"All right, but why did you bring me out here for...this?"

Annie sighed, leant forward to close the distance between them. "Can't let you go and ruin my image. So I'm just deciding how I ought to kill you."

"You haven't killed me yet."

She shifted her hand idly in his, forehead to forehead. "I should. And you should be afraid of me."

"I still think you're bluffing." His humor faltered as her eyes narrowed fractionally.

In a second she had him restrained against the tree, legs locked around his to prevent escape.

"I really should kill you," Annie breathed, trapping his wrists above his head. "Before the rest of the cadets get the wrong idea."

Her flush had faded a little, but it still spanned over the whole of her, unbroken. Her lips were mere millimetres from his and he wanted to kiss her again for the thrill of it.

"I think they did a while ago. Seems like a lot of troub―"

She kissed him mid-sentence, slowly, almost sweetly. Surprise dissolved the words from his mouth and he grunted.

"Weren't you going to kill me?" he asked, once she broke the contact.

"You say you're going to join the Scout Regiment," she muttered. "It's a moot point."

Eren made a lackadaisical effort to free himself, but she was in no hurry to let him go. "You're pretty talkative."

"We're alone," she said indifferently.

"That doesn't change what I said."

Her eyes glinted. "Would you rather I killed you now?"

"Not particularly. Could you let me go, though?"

She disentangled their legs, released his wrists and moved to sit beside him. The moment her weight lifted from him it occurred to him, albeit dully, that his back was rather sore, but it didn't matter in the slightest. She did up her trousers, retrieved her shirt from the rock and pulled it over her head. "We probably won't see each other after we graduate."

"Probably." He got to his feet unsteadily, with his pants.

"I'd rather leave you with something to remember me by," said Annie after a moment.

_Don't be ridiculous, I have plenty to remember you by, _Eren thought. What he said was: "Before I die, you mean?"

"Right," she amended. "Before you die."

* * *

It wasn't even a week before things took a turn for the worse. Because that was when she stopped talking to him.

Eren had no idea what had happened to cause this. He felt angry and hurt and used, but that was only to be expected. More than anything, he was confused. Terribly so. Had it meant anything to her? Perhaps their relationship, like most things in life, was only fleeting, too good to last. He didn't want to think of it, and yet he could not dissuade himself from dwelling upon it. He was trapped.

They avoided one another now, and speculation was born, thriving on the mouths of their fellow soldiers and the heavy silence that followed them like a wall. His fellows offered little to no help in regards to the mysteries of her skittishness. Mina was oddly pensive, as were Bertholdt and Reiner. His fellows' attempts to ask the three of them for an explanation turned up fruitless. Curiously, this practice of avoiding answers was mostly on Bertholdt and Reiner's side. Eren didn't have it in him to care about any of it; Annie's determination to disregard him was enough to keep him on edge. He wanted her to do something. Say something. Anything would be better than this.

More than once, he watched her in silence for whatever answers he could obtain. She would not look at him. Once, two days after it all began, he got her attention. Relief soon yielded to frustration as she returned his gaze, finally, with nothing but ire. Sometimes, in the aftermath of that instant, Eren let himself believe that there had been guilt in her eyes.

She avoided him furtively, nearly desperately; so Eren cornered her with a week left before graduation and a hundred questions burning in his mind, but only one escaped from his mouth: "What's going on?"

Annie would not look at him and it disturbed him, irritated him. She was fearless. What had she to hide?

"We're not discussing this, Jaeger." She turned from him, but he would not let her leave, not without a proper answer. So he clapped a hand over her shoulder.

Annie froze, wheeled around so quickly it was almost frightening. He half expected her to slam him to the ground, to break his arm, to leave him bloody and broken and humiliated in the dirt for his nerve. She did not do this.

"Let me go." Her voice was like ice. But she was trembling. From indignation, not fear. Never fear.

"Talk to me, then," he hissed.

Something flashed in her pale eyes. "What would you have me say?"

"I just want some answers, all right?"

She stared disbelievingly up at him. "I thought I'd been clear enough." Condescension thrived in her tone.

"For God's sake, Annie! Just give me an honest answer!" He was shouting now, and they were not alone on the field. He did not care. She did not flinch, and he did not expect her to, but something in her eyes flickered, died. And her unresponsiveness vanished. There was no pretense of indifference as she glared at him.

And she replied: "I can't."

"You can't _what_?" he snapped, provoked by her ambiguity.

"I can't answer you," she said, "because we have nothing to say to each other."

He swore. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She snapped. But not in the way he expected her to. She grabbed his hand and wrenched it from her.

"Seeing as you can't leave well enough alone," she spat, "I suppose I'd do best to humor you."

Despite the violence seething in her voice, she had still not made a move to strike him, and he wondered if this was her way of proving a point.

"All right, then," he said shortly. "What do you want me to know?"

She glowered at him with such ferocity that he almost wanted to laugh; so strange was it for her to lend herself to emotion. But then she faltered, and there was hurt in her eyes, there was fear.

"I loved you," she said, almost inaudibly.

The words seemed to be wrenched from her with nothing short of utmost torment. She did not look at him, but he heard, all too clearly, the quaver in her voice. And he knew then, despite her best efforts to deny it, that she was not as composed as she'd wanted to believe.

Eren was quiet.

After all, what was there to say?

* * *

_Everyone I know_

_Says I'm a fool to mess with you_

_Everyone I know_

_Says it's a stupid thing to do_

_Coldplay - I Ran Away_


	3. With a headache and a heavy heart

Hitch Dreyse didn't know the horrors of war. There were other battles to be fought much closer to home. She knew the ways of the streets and how to earn small favors, how to hold a number of jobs and deal with the lower common denominator. She knew how to slip by on a few choice words and let others believe what they saw.

She was seventeen. Adequate with a knife. Adequate all around, really. Nothing special. Not really much of a looker. Just full of risky words and a sharp tongue. Her friends puzzled ceaselessly over how she'd made it into such a prestigious organisation like this, but that didn't matter. None of them had been lucky enough to get into Wall Sina.

Trost had been a nightmare, or so she'd heard. Hitch couldn't confirm that to be true; after all, she'd missed out on all the fun. Not that she minded.

She hadn't bothered to learn any of her fellow MP's names, yet. She just wasn't in the mood; she'd memorize them later. But she did know a few of them already. Boris Feulner had been here the year before her. He was nice enough, but there was not much else to say about him. There was a new boy named Marlowe Freudenberg, about a head taller than she was, sallow-faced and lanky. He had the tendency to be a right pain in the arse with all his talk about cleaning up the Military Police. He was dead serious about it, too. And there was her roommate.

Annie Leonhardt, they'd called her. Hitch hadn't met her yet. All she knew was that Annie had come fresh from Trost, as a member of the 104th Training Corps. Before that, there was little information that could be scrounged up; then again, a general level of incompetence within the Military Police was to be expected. Hitch still wondered about her. What was she like? Hopefully nothing like Marlowe. Though it wasn't her business to speculate; she hadn't even met her yet.

Her group had gone over the weekly procedures an hour ago. Really, that had consisted of a lot of stalling on part of the officers. The lodgings were much nicer than Hitch was used to: there was a bunk bed facing the west, already laid with sheets. A modest bathroom, a desk in the corner. An oak dresser, worn with age but still impressive. A small set of windows, framed by curtains.

Hitch was lounging idly around her room when there came a rapping at the door. She got up with a stifled yawn, walked over to the door and opened it, expecting an officer or someone important. But there wasn't anyone. Hitch blinked. Looked down and found a girl standing on the threshold.

"Oh. You're the new kid, then?"

The girl didn't say anything. She just walked past her and made a beeline for the dresser opposite the bunks. Hitch glanced back down the hall, but there weren't any other girls or higher-ups. She closed the door.

Hitch turned back, sizing the girl up. She was pretty small. Like a little bird of prey. She had the nose for it, and eyes like a hawk, piercing. Fair hair. She carried little but the clothes on her back.

"Right. Guess I'll do the talking for both of us. My name's Hitch. I take it you're Annie, then?"

There was no confirmation. Hitch clicked her tongue impatiently.

"Look, I don't want to do all the talking for you. Are you Annie or not?"

The girl paused. Nodded stiffly.

Hitch sighed. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

* * *

Stohess was pretty dull once you got used to the nicer accommodations. If you were like Hitch, the most exciting you could affix your time to was guard duty and maybe a little paperwork now and again. Annie, conversely, jumped at the chance to conduct a lot of underground investigations, presumably anointing the many, many ne'er-do-wells that existed within Stohess's reasonably pristine exterior. Hitch didn't see much of her, but stories arose.

"You know, I reckon you're doing a fairer job of cleaning this stupid place up than old man Freudenberg ever has," Hitch began one evening. (This particular moniker was a much beloved one, especially among the staff.) "At least you go out and do stuff." Hitch wondered often why she even bothered talking to her. Trying to hold a conversation with Annie was a lot like talking to the air, or the wall; you could say just about anything and get the same response. "Why do you take on all those jobs, anyway?"

Annie paused.

"We all have hobbies," she said.

Hitch stopped dead. She stared at the other girl, reeling from the realisation that Annie Leonhardt had just uttered her first sentence that was directed exclusively to her. "You have hobbies?" she repeated blankly.

Annie shrugged.

Later, when the shock had worn off, Hitch supposed they all had hobbies. Some went into town, others read, or played rounds of cards or traded gossip. Annie beat the living daylights out of criminals and got paid for it.

* * *

But this period of tedium was not to last.

Hitch awoke one morning to find Annie in the bathroom, back to the entryway, hunched over the commode. There was an odd, revolting smell polluting the air.

"What is it? You drop something in the—" Hitch stopped talking when Annie retched, violently. "Oh. You eat some of the bread? I should have mentioned—you don't want to do that, it's worse than shit."

Annie tried to speak, but she quickly doubled over again, heaving. Hitch recoiled at the sight.

"I'll, uh, go ahead and tell the others you're not feeling well."

Annie was still in the bathroom when she came back, but no longer prone to vomiting.

"Didn't eat anything," she said. "Can't keep it down."

"You can't eat?" Annie nodded. Hitch eyed her curiously. "You want me to take you down to the infirmary?"

"No."

"What d'you mean, no? You're vomiting all over the—"

"Hitch."

Hitch exhaled shortly. "Look, if you're just going to be a hard-arse about this, then I won't stop you. Just keep it in the bathroom, all right?"

* * *

Annie was sick the next day, and the next, and she kept mostly to herself, but she had been doing that for so long that Hitch thought little of it.

She stopped taking missions. Not because she wanted to. Actually, Annie got her health back within the week, but for some inexplicable reason now relegated herself to small jobs and paperwork. Hitch figured she'd suffered injury, but never received solid confirmation. Annie remained bitter in her state of apparent incapacitation. Hitch left her to brood.

And so Annie trained. Furiously, as if to make up for lost time. On multiple occasions Hitch caught sight of her out in the field, perhaps an hour or so after break, going through the motions.

She often came back to their dorm in a state of exhaustion. Just slumped onto her bunk and passed out. Sometimes she didn't come back until Hitch was fast asleep.

* * *

One night, however, Hitch found herself pressured to reach out to her.

"How long have you been out here, exactly?"

Annie whirled around, hackles raised. She didn't falter when she laid eyes on her. "What do you want?"

"You coming back to the dorm, or are you just going to keep kicking the shit out of that dummy?"

Annie turned back, regaining her stance. Her whole body was rigid with determination. Or maybe she was in pain. It was hard to tell with someone as stoic as her. "I'm training," she supplied, stiffly.

"Right, well, it's a bit late for all that. Has it ever occurred to you that some folks might be trying to sleep?" Annie didn't say anything. Hitch rolled her eyes. "Oh, just go to bed, will you."

* * *

They were nearly a week and a half into their service. The sun shone brightly through the windows. Every now and then it ducked behind a cloud.

Hitch remembered the day clearly, because it was the first time she woke up before Annie did. The previous night, the other girl had collapsed into her bunk and didn't get up until Hitch decided to rouse her out of pity's sake.

"You're going to be late if you don't get ready."

She left Annie sitting on the lower bunk, and she was still there when Hitch returned. Hitch was more than a little suspicious at this point, but she went on with her business without inquiring; it would be fruitless to do so. She was halfway across the room when Annie spoke.

"I missed."

Hitch stopped, looked over at her. "You talking to me, Leonhardt?" Annie continued to watch her feet. She was fiddling aimlessly with the sleeve of her shirt.

"I'm late, Hitch," she reiterated, to the half-polished floorboards.

Hitch frowned. "Late for wha—ohh." She shrugged. "Is that all? It's not exactly unusual, you know."

Annie stopped fiddling with her sleeve and looked up. She looked a lot younger all of a sudden. "That's not what I mean," she said, voice lowered almost to a whisper. "I haven't had one in weeks."

Hitch almost wanted to laugh at how scared she looked, but something struck her as off. She decided, for the moment, to play it down. "How do you know it's what you're making it out to be, huh? Are you a period-expert or somethin'?" Annie shot her a dark look. "All right, all right, I can take a hint." She sat down on the bed at a safe distance from her. "But honestly, don't you think you could be jumping to conclusions? Maybe you're just ill and late."

Annie shook her head. "No," she muttered. "No, that's not what this is."

Hitch scooted closer despite the risk of danger. "Right. How do you know?" she asked.

"I just know," said Annie, and her voice was hushed. Hitch looked at her for a long moment, hesitant to approach. She didn't know why; something about the way her roommate just sat there, silent and scared, was unnerving. She'd never seen her exhibit any kind of emotion except nonchalance, and certainly nothing like this. It was almost pitiful.

"Hey," Hitch said finally, in a rare moment of seriousness. "Hey, come on. Look at me, all right?" Annie raised her head, but stared at the wall. Hitch noticed she was trembling, almost imperceptibly. She bent over, hands on knees, so she could see her face. "So, uh...do you know whose it is?" Annie didn't say anything, but she gave a nasty jolt at the infliction of whose. Hitch realised the unpleasant connotations of her question and quickly backtracked: "I mean, you don't have to tell me anything about it. If you don't want to." Again, she was met with silence. Unsure whether that was a good sign or not, she sat up and continued: "Look...I dunno what I can do, or if I can do anything, but if you need cover, I'd be more than happy to do something..." Hitch trailed off.

Annie drew her knees up to her chest, curling into herself. Hitch decided to test her luck again.

"You want to talk about it?" Shrug. "Do I know this fellow?" Annie shook her head. "Was he all right to you?" No response. "Oh," said Hitch quietly. "He wasn't...?"

"No," Annie said, voice strangely hoarse. "It wasn't anything like that."

Inwardly, Hitch sighed with relief. "Does he know you're pregnant?" Annie didn't move. "You don't know?" She nodded shakily. "Shit," Hitch muttered. "Anything else you want to tell me?" Annie shook her head. She looked on the verge of a kind of silent breakdown. "...I don't suppose you have a plan?" Again, no response. Hitch sighed. "Lovely. All right, I guess I should give you some advice. You listening?"

Annie nodded.

"If you don't fancy getting kicked out onto the streets, keep your head down and give it a week or two. We can go from there."

Annie gazed forlornly up at her past her folded arms.

"Trust me on this one," said Hitch.

* * *

One of the many perks about living in the Military Police was the lack of people. No longer did they have to deal with a room teeming with their kin. No longer were they clustered together with several other kids in a room that always smelt of feet.

And so it was that, eighteen days later, the two of them were on lunch break. They sat separately, but that suited Hitch well; she figured they could both do without an hour's worth of awkward silence.

Hitch kept watching Annie out of the corner of her eye, offering half-hearted replies to the various topics of conversation. Her friends didn't seem to notice this.

It hadn't been more than fifteen minutes into the hour when Annie froze. Her gaze shifted down. Hitch wondered for a moment if she'd dropped her fork, but Annie didn't bend down to retrieve anything. She just blinked, as if stunned. Abruptly, she got up from the table and stalked over to the entrance hall.

"What's wrong with her?" someone asked.

"Don't worry about it," said another voice.

Hitch frowned. Should she follow her? Annie had certainly been acting strange, but she hadn't done anything as drastic as this. But there was something about the way she'd looked at whatever had caught her attention. Hitch just couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

In the end, she decided to follow her, despite her friends' protests.

"I'll just go talk to her," she reassured them. "She's been having a rough week."

She went back to their dorm on a hunch and found the bathroom door closed. As she walked over to it, she heard movement from within. Hitch considered knocking, then cast aside the idea, called out:

"Annie?"

The occupant gasped sharply.

"Are you all right? Do you need help?" No reply. Hitch was growing impatient. "Are you hurt?"

There was a long pause. Hitch heard scuffling from the other side of the door, then it opened. Annie stood there, swaying slightly. She looked dazed.

"I'm bleeding," she said, faintly.

It took Hitch a moment to understand that the other girl was talking about the state of her trousers.

"Oh." She breathed a sigh of relief. "See? You got all worried over nothing!" She clapped her on the back without thinking, and Annie flinched. "Ah—sorry! I forgot you're not very..." she stopped. The other girl continued to stare blankly at her pants. "Er, hullo?" She didn't even swat her away. Hitch sighed. "I'll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you need extra clothes."

* * *

_And I'm shattered_  
_But it really doesn't matter_  
_'Cause my rescue is gonna be here soon_

_Coldplay - Help Is Round The Corner_


End file.
